The wisdom of my mother

It’s October 11, my mom’s birthday. She passed from this world to the next a couple years ago, but for me this date will forever be her birthday.

Astrologically, my mom was a Libra—the sun sign most often associated with the scales of justice which fit her like a glove. She was all about trying to be fair. Every piece of pie had to be divided in absolute equal parts, meals had to include all food groups for balance, everyone got the same number of rows in the garden to weed regardless of age, and if a fight broke out between us kids, she listened as best she could to all sides and imposed what she considered fair consequences.

I never once heard her say a bad thing about anyone. More often than not she took the side of whomever was in the line of fire whether a neighbor, public figure, or random person in the news. She believed everyone had their reasons for doing the things they did and we couldn’t know because we hadn’t “walked a mile in their shoes.”

This doesn’t mean Mom was without her issues. Sure, she was kind, loving, fun, compassionate, and a hard worker, but she could be such a Libra to the extent that everything was either black or white, good or bad. (Everyone has something, right?) This bred perfectionism of never good enough, right enough, smart enough, or try hard enough according to her beliefs. As a firstborn, I felt loved, but judged for pretty much everything. There really wasn’t a way to do anything “right.”

Although this is a difficult way to grow up sometimes as it tends to undermine a person’s self-confidence and often creates (angry) people pleasers, the uncomfortable growing conflict within what I felt was true and what I was told was true helped me break free of the perfection construct.

Life is what it is (not good or bad) and does not give meaning to anything. We are the ones who decide what an experience means for us no matter the perspective of another. I could be me without trying to live an image created by another.

The last five years of Mom’s earth life was spent with her mostly sleeping her days away in the apartment she shared with Dad. Her only real pleasure seemed to be spending time with Dad and the family. She’d always light up when she saw me, hold my hands and ask how the kids were. 

This is what she cared about. Not what was going on in the world, only my world. And she wasn’t trying to fix me or tell me how to do things “right.” My mom was truly becoming wise.  

She ended up in the hospital a few months before she died, and I was with her. A nurse came into the room, took one look at me and said to my mom, “This has to be your daughter. She looks just like you.”

Mom never took her eyes from me as she answered the nurse. “No,” she smiled lovingly. “She’s perfect.”

I’ll never forget that moment. Mom gazed at me like I was the most precious thing she’d ever seen. Nothing that could be improved on.

This changed me. All the years of guarding myself from judgment instantly melted away. I felt complete and healed in our relationship because of her unconditional love stated so simply and authentically.

There are not words to describe the love and gratitude I feel for her. She nailed one of the largest truths of all time: we are perfect. All of us. We don’t all act in kind ways or loving ways, but that has nothing to do with the perfection of us. We are the limitless, timeless version of God the creator of all and I for one, hope never to forget that. 

Thanks Mom. Happy birthday.

And as always, I’m available for private sessions if you need deeper understanding, support, or guidance in the form of energy work or intuitive life coaching. Click this link to schedule.